


Gabriel Reyes Needs A Sick Day

by EmetoOmo



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Sickfic, Vomiting, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-08
Updated: 2018-08-08
Packaged: 2019-06-23 18:23:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15612246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmetoOmo/pseuds/EmetoOmo
Summary: Gabe wakes up feeling off, but believing augmented soldiers don’t get sick, he decides to go put some training in…just to find himself sick in the middle of a session…while his good buddy Jack observes.





	Gabriel Reyes Needs A Sick Day

**Author's Note:**

> Anonymous asked: Hmmm... How about Overwatch character of your choice (though my personal faves are McCree, Junkrat, and Reaper) having to throw up in the middle of training or a mission?
> 
> Graphic descriptions of vomiting ahead.

When Gabriel Reyes had earned his place in the soldier enhancement program, it had been a point of pride knowing that he would be able to be the best him he could be in order to serve his country. It had not been an easy process, and though many of the details tended to blur together from those early days, the shaping, the experiments…he had long ago decided that the struggles would he worth it.   
  
And struggles there were. There were no time outs in the military, and Gabriel Reyes had never been one to ever call one. So when he and his friend Jack Morrison had gotten the chance to join Overwatch, he knew that it would be just the beginning of a long line of service where they inspired each other to be better, and by proxy, their teammates.  

When it was decided that Gabriel would lead them, it kicked him into high gear. To say he wanted to rise to the occasion was an understatement. He pushed his men hard, and he pushed himself harder.  

Omnics didn’t take sick days, and when Gabriel woke to the sensation of his stomach roiling at the scent of coffee wafting into his room in the barracks from the common room down the hall…he brushed it off. Augmented soldiers didn’t get sick. Not to his knowledge at least… 

Throwing on his track pants and a black tank top, he decided to grab some light toast and then to the training bunker. Weekends made scheduling some alone time in the highly sought-after training facility nearly impossible, and he wasn’t about to squander his chance because of a squirrely feeling stomach.  

The toast seemed to have done its trick, and with that settled, he changed the training settings to their highest difficulty and strolled past the protective field of the safe zone out into the main room.  

After but a mere hour, he had begun to wonder if he had merely imagined himself better as he started to tire out prematurely. His legs felt a little leaden, and his head swam slightly with every movement of his eyes. His reaction times were starting to suffer for it, to the point where he was doing more dodging the faux-omnics than he was fighting them.  

“You can’t be tired already, Reyes,” a familiar voice came over the loud speakers. 

 _Morrison…_  

“I’m just getting started,” he said, forcing a grin and leaving cover to push through clearing the hall he had taken respite in. 

“You’re getting sloppy,” Jack said, a hint of teasing in his voice toward his good friend.  

Another shot, the scent of sulfur, of spent gunpowder, wafted through his nostrils painfully strong. As he turned the corner, he had to brace himself on the wall as a tugging sensation tensed from his stomach straight up to his nasal cavity, causing him to swallow dryly. His throat was so dry it did nothing but force him to dry heave loudly. His cheeks burned with embarrassment as he heard the high pitched whine of the speakers being keyed up again. “Gabe…what are you doing out there sick?” 

He covered his mouth with the back of his hand, forcing a shaky breath, but not having much time before another one of their training omnics turned the corner just for him to sink a bullet through the LED screen.  

“Not. Sick.” He protested, starting back down the hall with far less enthusiasm. He felt shaky, weak, and every step brought with it an angry slosh from his stomach. Did he turn and run for the control room, or just stick it out? He was in damn near the middle of the facility, there was a good chance he’d not even make it back without— 

“—uurrrp!” A belch ripped forth from him without much warning, bringing with it a thick, sticky sort of saliva that clung to the back of his tongue almost as much as it stubbornly kept trying to slide further into his mouth with every swallow.  

“I’m coming in there.”  
  
“Goddamn it, Jack, I’m f—uuughhhh!” He retched loudly, his forearm folding across his stomach as he doubled over, brown spittle dribbling from his parted lips. It hadn’t mattered anyway, Morrison had grabbed his gun and was already blasting his way to him before he even voiced his protest.  

 Another heave, this time far more productive, brought up the chunky undigested remnants of the morning toast, just missing his boots to hit the metal grating of the floor. Barely enough time passed for him to take another breath before a stronger heave came behind it and the burn of last night’s whiskey came screaming up and out. His eyes watered and he could do little more than to stand there weakly, slave to his body’s instinctual purge. 

He couldn’t even hear the sound of heavy boots approaching behind him over the sound of his vomiting. Jack’s hand rubbed his back as he kept an eye out. “Damn, Reyes, you’re really sick…” 

“…no shit Sherlock…” he rasped, his voice gruff from the strain. His stomach growled loud and angry as it flipped and flopped, the nausea unbearable. He holstered his gun, and stubbornly stuck a finger down his throat. If his body wanted to be sick, then goddamn it, it was going to get it all done and over with now.  

Jack frowned a bit to see him forcing more sick out of him, the scent almost as unbearable as the belchy, gurgling sound it made as it erupted from him. Gabe glanced up at him when he noticed he’d grown uncharacteristically still, and smirked despite his misery. “What’s the matter, Morrison? Can’t handle a little puke.”  
  
“That’s more than a little—“ Gabriel dry heaved loudly, and Jack stifled his own reflexive gag for it.  “Jack…you’re a sympathy puker, aren’t you?” Gabriel asked amused, his own nausea starting to subside.   
  
“Just finish up so we can get you to Angela…” Jack grumbled, turning away, ears burning pink a bit for Gabriel noticing.   
  
“Sure thing, Jack. Here, help me back.” Gabriel reached an arm out to Jack, only to fake a gag as soon as he was close.   
  
Jack immediately turned an inhuman shade of green and gagged softly. “Reyes!”  
  
“Sorry, sorry…I’m done…really. Just get me back to Angela before you end up needing her too…” 


End file.
